f * 




-^ ** ^ 



xs. 



..^..L^a.. 



6 



Author . 



Title 



Imprint. 



16 — 17372-2 GPO 








J.B.^c^S*"^ ' 



WORDSWORTH: 



A POEM. 



WILLIAM WALLACE, 



-The mind 



Where Faith so deep a root could find, 
Faith, which both love and hfe could save, 

And keep the first, in age still fond, 
Thus blossoming this side the grave 

In steadfast trust of fruit beyond. 

Vigil of Faith. 

He can still drink in 
The unshadowed glories of the Universe. 

Boyhood's Recollections. 




NEW YORK: 

HUNTINGTON AND SAVAGE, 
116 Pearl-street. 



1846. 



EDWARD O. JENKINS, PRINTER. 



TO HENRY JOHNSON, ESQ., 

Sir, 

Two motives actuate me in inscribing this Poem to 
you — one, the admiration which you have expressed for 
the great Bard who is the theme — the other, my own regard 
for yourself. 

Yours truly, 

THE AUTHOR. 



WORDSWORTH. 



-The mind 



Where Faith so deep a root could find. 
Faith, which both love and life could save, 

And keep the first, in age still fond. 
Thus blossoming this side the grave 

In steadfast trust of fruit beyond. 

Vigil of Faith. 

He can still drink in 
jjhe unshadowed glories of the Universe. 

Boyhood'' s Recollections. 



I. 

Sunset is on the dial : and I know 
My hands are feeble and my head is white 
With many snows, and in my dim old eyes 
Light plays the miser with a frugal care, 
And soon the curtain drops : But still I know, 
The Soul in sceptred majesty of will 
Leaves not the royal dais. 

The ancient Winds 



WORDSWORTH. 

Still chant around me all the solemn themes 

I learned when young ; and in the hollow flower 

I hear the murmur left there by the bee ; 

And jubilant Rivers laugh and clap their hands 

Amid the leaning Hills that nurse them there ; 

And far away I see the Eagles float 

Along the gray tops of the billowy Woods 

Like ships that go triumphing on the waves ; 

And over all the Sun towers steadily 

Beside his flaming altar, and beholds, 

As he beheld through many centuries gone, 

The holocausts of light roll up to God ; 

And when the Evening walks the western land, 

I know that Mazzaroth will sit and sing 

Within his azure house ; and I shall hear 

Around the pathways of the dim Abyss 

The deep low thunder of those sphered wheels 

Which He, the Ancient One of Days, in right 

Of suveran godship strode, some ages back ; 

And still the play, a venerable play — 

World-wide — of this Humanity goes on. 

Still dark the plot, the issues unperceived. 

So, with all things thus filling every sense, 

The Soul, in sceptred majesty of will. 

Sits on her royal dais, and wears her crown. 



WORDSWORTH. 

Then why should I — whose thoughts were shaken down 

On all the Isles and blossomed for their sons — 

My office yield, and let the general Hymn 

Unheeded harmonize the jangling space 1 

By action only doth Creation hold 

Her charter — and, that gone, the worlds are dead. 

'Tis not in souls which would the Noblest find. 

To rest contentedly upon old wreaths ; 

For voices shout from all the moving Stars 

That trouble idle Space—" On ! On ! Still On !"— 

And all the Deeps, whose slumberous eyes were smit 

By busy Godhead into blazing Suns, 

Join in the choral summons — " On ! Still On !" 

/ will not rest and unmelodious die ; 

But with my full wreath round these thin, white hairs, 

And rhythmic lips, and vision kindling up, 

March through the Silent Halls, and bravely pass 

Right on into the Land that lies beyond, 

"Where they my Brother-Bards — this* with a soul 

As large as peopled worlds which it would bless ; 

And that,t a wondrous Dream whose lustrous wings 

Winnowed the dull Earth's sea of sleep to life 

And sun-bright motion — those majestic Bards 

* Southey and f Coleridge- 



WORDSWORTH. 

Who went before, choiring their lofty hynins, 
Watch for my coming on the misty hills. 

II. 

But what the burden of that latest song 
Will be, as yet I know not — nor the rhythm 
That shall go beating with her silver feet 
The sounding aisles of thought : But this I hope, 
A listening world will hear that latest song. 
And seat it near the fireside of its heart 
Forevermore, and by the embers' light 
Look fondly on its face as men of old 
Looked on the faces of the angel guests 
Who tarried sometimes in their pastoral homes : 
For this last hymn shall wear a holiest smile, 
Befitting well the time and circumstance. 

III. 

Most haply I shall sing some simple words, 

Rich with the wealth Experience gives to Time — 

An antique tale of beauty and of tears : 

Or I may wander in my thought afar 

Where men have built their homes in forests vast, 

And see the Atlantic rest his weary feet 

And lift his large blue eyes on other stars : 



WORDSWORTH. 

Or hear the Sire of many Waters* hoarse 
With counting- centuries, and rolling on 
Through the eternal night of silent woods, 
Whose huge trunks sentinel a thousand leagues, 
His deep libation to the waiting seas ; 
Then would I join the choral preludes swelling 
Between the wondrous acts of that great play 
Which Time is prompting in another sphere : 
Or I may wander in my thought afar 
'Mid ruins gray of columns overthrown — 
When populous Towns went roclnng to and fro 
Wildly upon the troubled Earth's unrest, 
Like great armadas on the roused seas — 
And then lift up a song of solemn march 
Amid the glorious temples crumbling there — 
The beautiful records of a world which was. 
Majestic types of what a world must be : 
Or I may turn to themes that have no touch 
Of sorrow in them, piloted by Joy — 
And raise the burial stone from shrouded Years, 
And hear the laugh of youth clear ringing out, 
Or feel again a sweet religious awe. 
Such as I felt when floated holy chimes 



* The Mississippi. 



WORDSWORTH. 

In boyhood's ear, and such as stern men feel 

When passing by cathedral doors they hear 

A dim-remembered psalm roll softly out 

And fill their eyes with tears, they know not why : 

Then I shall sing of children blooming o'er 

The desolate wide heath of Life, like flowers 

Which daring men had stolen from Paradise, 

When near its gate the wearied Cherub slept 

And dreamed of Heaven. — Or to some pastoral vale 

Shall pass my trembling feet 1 There shall I pour 

To Nature, loved in all her many moods, 

A chant sublimely earnest. I shall tell 

To all the tribes with what a stately step 

She walks the silent wilderness of Air, 

Which always puts its starry foliage on 

At her serene approach, or in her lap 

Scatters its harvest-wealth of golden suns : 

And many a Brook shall murmur in my verse ; 

And many an Ocean join his cloudy bass ; 

And many a Mountain tower aloft, whereon 

The black Storm crouches, with his deep-red eyes 

Glaring upon the valleys stretched below : 

And many a green Wood rock the small bright birds 

To musical sleep beneath the large full moon ; 

And many a Cloud in crumbling prison hold 



WORDSWORTH. 

The Rainbow peering tlirough the frequent rents, 

Impatiently, and longing to come out 

On faithless lands, a Memory of God : 

And many a Star shall lift on high her cup 

Of luminous cold chrysolite — set in gold 

Chased subtily over by Angelic art — 

To catch the odorous dews which Seraphs drink 

In their wide wanderings : and many a Sun 

Shall press the pale lips of the timorous Morn 

Couched in the bridal East : and over all 

Will brood the visible presence of the One 

To whom my life has been a solemn chant. 

Because he is and was a mighty God, 

A King above all Gods. Within his hand 

He holdeth the deep places of the Earth, 

And also his the strength of all the hills. 

Of old he heard his stricken minstrel's voice ; 

Then shook the Earth and all the hills were moved. 

A smoke went from his nostrils, and a fire 

Went from his mouth, a great fire which devoured. 

He also bowed the Heavens and came down ; 

And pillared darkness lay beneath his feet : 

He rode upon a Cherub and did fly ; 

He flew upon the white wings of the wind : 

The darkness made his secret place j his tent 



WORDSWORTH. 

Around him was dark waters and thick clouds : 
He thundered also in the Heavens above ; 
The Highest gave his voice in hail and fire : 
The ancient channels of the seas were seen ; 
And the foundations of the world were shown 
At thy rebuke, God ! From all his foes 
Thy Bard was drawn, and lifted from the waves.* 

IV. 
Then let the sunset fall and flush Life's dial ! 
No matter how the years may smite my frame. 
And cast a piteous blank upon my eyes, 
That seek in vain the old accustomed stars 
Which skies hold over blue Winandermere. 
Be sure that I a crowned Bard will sing f 

Until within the murmuring barque of verse 
My Spirit bears majestically away, 
Charming to golden hues the gulf of death — 
Well knowing that upon my honored grave, 
Beside the widowed lakes that wail for me. 
Haply the dust of four great worlds will fall 
And mingle — thither brought by Pilgrim's feet. 

* The reader will perceive that the passage from " of old" to 
" waves," is nearly word for word from two of the sublimely simple 
psalms of " The Monarch Minstrel." Excepting the last line and a 
half, (a condensation of several verses,) the author found it necessary 
to introduce but six or seven words of his own, for the sake of euphony. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

016 165 936 8 # 



